


The Lonely Moonlit House

by vala (valinorean)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valinorean/pseuds/vala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some memories are harder to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lonely Moonlit House

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HD Season's 13 Smutty Nights of Halloween, night 2 (prompt: Haunted House, hands)

Atop a lonely hill and isolated from the wizarding village sits a forsaken moonlit house. Neither working door nor windows adorn the rickety shack, adding to its forlorn facade. But amidst the cracked and broken tiles of the shingled roof lies a large hole that allows moonlight to shine through. Silver rays reach down to gently caress the pale body of a sleeping man within.   


Beside the man sprawled on the narrow bed sits his lover, whose legs are hugged close to his chest and knees tucked under a chin. He watches the lonely moon, waiting for the ghosts to come.

The first ghost comes in the form of a broken chain on the corner of the room, left behind by the former tenant of the house. It is dull and rusty, twisted and bent. Underneath it, crimson rust stains the wooden floor – a sign that that it has been left untouched for a great long while. It is a chain used long ago before the tenant knew what true friendship means. Long before he regained his sanity – before the stag, the dog and the rat – there was only him and this chain. The saddest memory is from this ghost.

All along the length of the small room are canine marks. It is the mark of the second ghost – the ghost of regret and painful memories. Looking around, he sees shallow scratches along the walls and teeth marks on the furniture. They are the marks of a playful romp. The ghost had been happy here once, long ago. But it was followed by despair and loneliness. Another chance for happiness was given, but it too had been taken all too soon.

The final ghost, and by far the hardest to forget, comes from the other corner of the room. Here, the wooden floor is darker, steeped in blood. It is the blood spilt by senseless violence and greed. It is the blood of a lifetime spent without acknowledgement of valiant deeds. It is the blood of the bravest man he knew.

The man shudders at these painful and unwelcome memories.

He turns to caress his lover, hands cold and trembling. He presses his cold lips against his lover's warm neck, trailing butterfly kisses down his spine. He will wake his lover up and urge him to make love ere they return to the castle.

“Draco,” he whispers, trying to wake his companion. “Make love to me.”

This he can demand while he is his. Still his.

Because in time, he too might be just another memory, haunting the moonlit house.


End file.
